by Amy Patrick
She hated working there, but the tips were as large as the outfits were small, and she needed the money.
“I’ve never been there, but maybe I should go. I’m sure you’ll look great in this,” he drawled, picking up a tiny halter top.
I snatched it away from him. “I’m sure you’ll never know.”
Scurrying from the room, I went to wake my friends. After I explained where we were and what the plan was, they went into the bathroom to change out of their prison uniforms and apply their streetwalker disguises.
I would change into mine after I’d dealt with Shane. I knew what I had to do now. There was no other choice.
The police were looking for us, and he was a witness.
14
Something You Should Know
For the second time in one day, I was telling Shane goodbye. This time it would be for good.
“So,” I said to him, feeling heartsick.
“So...” He wore a tight-lipped expression, and his eyes were troubled. “I guess this is where you tell me to get lost.”
I gave him a sad smile in return. “This is where I tell you ‘thank you.’ Thanks for being one of the good guys. I hope you don’t get in too much trouble for helping us.”
His lips quirked, and he reached out to brush a loose curl behind my ear. “I was mesmerized, remember? I couldn’t resist if I wanted to.”
The unexpected intimacy of the gesture sent a shiver through me. I moved back and let out an uncomfortable giggle. “Really, don’t be a hero when you talk to them, okay? Lie and say we forced you to come with us. They’ll believe it.”
He frowned. “I hate to leave without knowing you’ll be okay.”
Guilt assaulted me. We would be leaving, but he wouldn’t.
“Don’t worry about us,” I mumbled. “We’ll work something out.”
“I am worried. I’ve got a little money I could give you.” Shane pulled his wallet from his back jeans pocket.
The guilt tripled. I held up a hand and shook my head. “That’s nice of you, but I can’t kill your phone and take your money.”
“You can, and you will. You have to. It’s the least I can do.”
Removing all the cash, he pressed it into my hand.
“It’s enough for some blood bags and an Uber out of town. Unfortunately not enough if you’re planning to go too far out of town, but at least it’ll give you a head start.”
“Thank you,” I said again, my breath quickening and a lump growing in my throat. Suddenly I felt sad about the prospect of doing what I had to do. “Well, it certainly hasn’t been boring.”
“Definitely not. I’ll never forget you. And I’ll probably worry about you every day for forever. I wish I knew you were going to be okay.”
“We will be,” I blurted.
And please stop being so nice. This is hard enough as it is.
“We have friends in high places—well, one friend in high places. She’ll be able to help us.”
I wouldn’t tell him we were headed to Los Angeles. For all our sakes it was best for Shane to have no idea where we’d gone.
Even if he didn’t intend to betray us—and I was pretty sure he didn’t—the police had ways of getting information out of people.
Just then Heather and Kelly emerged from the bathroom looking human, thanks to the contact lenses, and very sexy, thanks to Larkin’s work wardrobe.
They were both laughing.
“Can you imagine what Sadie’s gonna say when we show up looking like this?” Heather asked.
Kelly and I shushed her simultaneously, but from the look on Shane’s face it was too late. He’d heard her, and he knew who she was talking about.
“Sadie Aldritch? The Vampire-Human Coalition leader? Is that where you’re planning to go—to her?”
Great. Nice moment over. Now I definitely had no choice.
“I’m sorry about this.” Pushing Shane into the bathroom, I shut the door between us and bent the knob to one side so it could no longer be turned.
“Hey!” He jiggled it then banged on the door. “Abbi, what are you doing? Why did you do that?”
“I’m sorry, but like I said, we can’t take any chances. I’ll let someone know where to find you as soon as we’re safely away. You won’t be in there long.”
“Wait. There’s something you should know,” he yelled through the door. “There’s been a bombing. In Los Angeles. At the VHC headquarters. It happened last night. I saw it on my phone. The terrorists took out the whole building. A bunch of the vampires who worked there were killed. They said on the news that they’re trying to figure out if Sadie Aldritch was one of them.”
“Oh my God,” Heather said in a hushed voice.
“I can’t believe it.” Kelly turned to me, her eyes huge. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
I ran into the living room, grabbed the TV remote, and searched channels until I found a news station. There it was, a story about the bombing, complete with horrific live video coverage of smoldering rubble and gawking onlookers.
“Oh no,” I breathed.
“It’s true,” Kelly said with tears in her eyes.
Heather sounded choked up as well. “All those people. All our friends.” She stared at the screen with one hand covering her mouth.
“Maybe they got out,” I said, but the video of the scene looked like a war zone. I didn’t know how anyone—vampire or human—could have survived it.
“Do you think Sadie was there?” Kelly whispered.
A bolt of fear rocked my heart. “God, I hope not.”
Had Sadie been in her office when the bomb went off? There was a chance she hadn’t been.
Since I’d been out of touch for the past few weeks while under incarceration, I wasn’t sure if she was even in Los Angeles. She did travel a lot. Maybe she’d been too caught up in the aftermath of the bombing to answer her phone.
Or maybe she’s dead.
No. No, she couldn’t be. Not her. She was too good, too important to the welfare and safety of vampires and humans alike. If she was gone—especially at the hands of terrorists—there was going to be a lot more bloodshed.
Most of it human.
One thing was for sure, she was in no position at the moment to help us. Which meant we weren’t going to Los Angeles.
“Well, we should call her. Larkin’s apartment has a landline,” Kelly said, gesturing toward the phone sitting on a side table.
“I already did. A few minutes ago.” I hated to even say the next words. “There was no answer.”
“What do we do now?” Kelly sobbed.
Heather sounded equally as scared. “Where are we gonna go?”
I gave her the only viable answer left.
“Home.”
15
Long Haul
The Bastion was the last place I wanted to go—but I didn’t see any other choice. We needed help.
Vampire help.
“We can’t go to our place in Los Angeles. The police will be watching it,” Kelly said.
“I agree. I’m talking about Virginia. Now we need to find a vehicle to get us there. The Bastion’s at least a three-day drive from here. There’s no way we can ride on a bus with humans that long without being identified as vampires. We can’t take Glenn’s truck. The highway patrol will be looking for it soon if they’re not already. We can’t use a car service because the police will be notified if the driver’s out of touch with their dispatcher for a long time.”
“I thought Imogen said you could never come back if you left,” Heather said.
A shudder went through me as I remembered my final farewell with my “mother.” Imogen had been so angry at me for leaving, especially because I was leaving to go work for her sister.
“She did. But I don’t see any other choice for us. She won’t turn you two away, at least. And it is a sanctuary. If we’ve ever needed one of those, it’s now.”
“Well, we’re going to need a vehicle outfitted for
daytime driving,” Heather said.
“That’ll be too suspicious. They’ll know we’re vampires. We’ll be stopped and searched at every state line checkpoint.”
“What will we do during the day then?” she asked. “We won’t be able to stop and stay in hotels along the way without identification and money.”
“Not to mention that would be a long haul without sleeping,” Kelly said.
Long haul. My heart leapt with excitement. “I have an idea.”
Going to the phone, I searched its speed dial directory. Yes. It was there—Curtis—the name of a vampire Larkin used to date.
The last time we’d spoken, she’d told me they had broken up but had agreed to be friends. I really hoped that was the case. I was about to ask Curtis for a very big favor.
I’d only spoken to him a handful of times, but he’d seemed like a super nice guy, respectful and generous and so clean-cut he looked like a choir boy. In fact, she’d met him at church.
Yes—vampires went to church. Not all of them of course, but of those who’d practiced a religion before turning, most I knew continued to observe their respective faiths.
Contrary to the opinions of some, vampirism had nothing to do with the occult or demons or even moral shortcomings. It was simply a biological condition, and in many cases, like mine, the vampire hadn’t had a choice in the matter.
Speaking of prayer, I prayed Curtis hadn’t disappeared the way Larkin and Sadie had. His phone was ringing with no answer.
Maybe he was sleeping in. If so, I hated to wake him, but we really had no time to lose.
Finally, after about ten rings, he answered, sounding groggy. “Hello?”
“Curtis? Hi, it’s Abigail.”
“Abigail Byler? Where have you been? No one’s heard from you in weeks. Larkin was frantic.”
“Do you know where she is?” I asked, suddenly hopeful. Maybe they’d reconciled and Larkin was staying at his place.
“No. I mean, I assume she’s either home or working at Fangers,” he said.
“I don’t think so. I’m at her place, and it’s been abandoned. I can’t reach Sadie either. Did you hear about what happened?”
“Yeah, I saw it on the news before I went to bed. Crazy, crazy stuff. I haven’t talked to Larkin in at least a week. I hope she’s okay. Are you okay, darlin’? It’s not like you to go dark like that.”
“I know. I’m sorry you were worried. Actually, I was arrested.”
“Arrested? That’s insane. You’re Miss Straight and Narrow. For what?”
“I’m still not sure. Listen, I need help. I escaped with some friends of mine, and then a human died. It was self-defense, but the official reports are saying we murdered the guy and a bunch of others. I need to get to the Bastion.”
“Oh Abbi, why would you go there? I thought you didn’t believe in Imogen’s approach.”
“I don’t. But we’re in trouble, and Sadie is either dead, hurt, or in hiding. I don’t know what else to do.”
“How can I help?”
“Do you still have your big rig? Or did you sell it?”
“I’ve been trying to—Lord knows it’s doing me no good sitting in my driveway, but I haven’t been able to yet. Want to borrow it?”
“Could we rent it from you? I know you’ve had some money trouble since you got laid off.”
Like so many vampires I knew, Curtis had lost his job. It happened a few months ago. He couldn’t prove it was because he was a vampire, but no humans had been laid off from the trucking company that had employed him for the past twenty-five years—only the vampires.
It couldn’t have been a case of age discrimination. His work record had been spotless. In fact, he’d been commended several times for his on-time deliveries and safe driving record.
“I can’t pay you right now, but once we get to the Bastion I can send you some money,” I said.
“I’m not gonna take your money, darlin’. You’re a friend in need. I’d offer to drive you myself, but I’ve got some guests coming into town tomorrow.”
“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to put you at risk by association anyway. If we get caught in your truck, I’ll say I stole it. They already think I’m a criminal. What’s one more infraction?”
“Well, all right then. There’s no trailer on it right now, so at least it’ll be easier to park and handle. And it’s got a curtained-off sleeping cab for daytime hours.”
“I remember. Thank you so much, Curtis. You are literally a life saver.”
“No problem. Happy to help. The thing I’m worried about is the state lines. Have you thought about that?”
All the major highways and most of the smaller ones had checkpoints at the state lines, part of a recent initiative to track the vampire population’s travel patterns and ensure there were no mass gatherings of our kind, like conventions—or mobs.
Sadie’s Devil’s Night sit-in last year had caused an uproar with the human authorities.
“We’re disguised as humans,” I explained. “We’ve got colored contacts in.”
“But they do temperature checks.”
“Oh. Right.”
Unescorted vampires weren’t allowed to cross state lines without written work orders. We’d had no issues getting out to California from Virginia because we were coming to work for Sadie, and she’d pulled strings to make sure our papers were expedited.
But now... now we had a problem. Then it hit me...
We also have a human.
16
Friends Don’t Cuff Friends
Hopefulness zinged through my insides, giving me fresh energy in spite of my persistent thirst.
“I’ll... work something out. Could you possibly bring the truck here?”
Curtis agreed, and I ended the call and filled my friends in on the plan.
“He’ll be here in half an hour. It should be dark by then. I’m going to get changed. Take a look around for anything that might be useful on a road trip. We’ll have to sort of rough-it camping in the truck during the daylight hours.”
The only thing of Larkin’s that fit me was a stretchy black tube skirt and a short top that exposed my whole stomach.
It was preferable to a prison uniform. Still, I winced at my reflection in the mirror. Since turning, I’d gradually given up the modest, extremely plain clothing I’d grown up wearing, but I was still miles away from an exhibitionist. This outfit was definitely not me. I was much more comfortable when people weren’t noticing me.
After applying more makeup than I’d ever worn in my life, I chose a pair of blue contacts to cover my lilac irises.
My friends gave me a thumbs up when I joined them in the living room. “You look hot,” Kelly teased, eyeing my out-of-character ensemble. “And human. Almost.”
“And thirsty,” Heather added before tossing me a full blood bag.
I caught it and stared down at the feast in my hands, my saliva spiking and my fangs jutting out instantly. I was starving. “Where did you get this?”
“From Larkin’s freezer. That was the only one in there. I quick-thawed it in some hot water for you. It’s gonna taste like garbage, but at least you won’t die of thirst. You haven’t had anything for days, except for that tiny little sip in the basement.”
“You sure you don’t want some?” My trembling fingers clenched greedily around the warm bag, contradicting my generous tone.
“No. You should have it. We already... had some,” Kelly said in a chagrined way, obviously feeling guilty over drinking from Glenn.
“Okay, thanks.” I drained the bag in mere minutes, grossed out at the less-than-fresh flavor but still hungry for more when it was gone.
Instantaneously I felt better, which was a good thing. We had a long drive ahead of us. It was better to be safe than sorry—especially when we would have human company for the trip.
Twisting the bathroom doorknob, I broke it off and pushed the door open. Shane jumped to his feet. He’d been sitting on the ledge of the
garden tub.
His eyes scanned me from head to toe. “Wow. You... you came back.”
“We never left. We ran into... complications—and don’t say anything about the outfit.”
“Your friend Sadie? Is she...”
“I don’t know. I can’t reach her. We’re not going to Los Angeles anymore.” I gritted my teeth then spat it out. “We’re leaving the state... and you’re coming with us.”
Now he did a double-take for a different reason. “Me? Why?”
“A friend has an 18-wheeler we can borrow. It has a sheltered sleeping cab. But we can’t travel over state lines without a human escort.”
“Oh right. But I can’t leave my uncle. He’s sick.”
“You’ll have to. We need you. And he’s a kidnapper. He was planning to starve us. He lied to you to get you to go along to the Safety Center and help with the breakout.”
“I know, and I’m still mad at him over all of it. But he’s my uncle, and he was desperate. He and my aunt gave me a place to live. I can’t let him die alone—and that’s a possibility.”
“Where’s your aunt now?”
“She lives in Davis, too, but they’re separated.”
“You’ll just have to call her and ask her to look after him for a few days. Or she can hire a home health care nurse or something. You’ll be gone three days at the most. When we get where we’re going, I’ll release you.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. And then you locked me in a bathroom.”
“I’m sorry. I’m telling you the truth though. You can drop us off and drive straight to an airport to fly home. We have no one else to ask.”
“Are you asking?” Shane shot a wary look at the twisted blob of metal that used to be the doorknob. “Or are you telling?”
“Which one will get you into that truck?”
He let out a long breath. “Fine. But I have no idea how to drive a trailer truck.”
Kelly stepped into the bedroom, obviously having overheard the conversation. “I do. I’ve got lots of truckers in my family. My uncles used to let me practice out on my granddad’s land in West Virginia. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”